


Wounds

by kindsherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Domestic, First Kiss, I love them so much, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, This is the first thing I have ever written be kind please, gay thoughts, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:46:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28362630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindsherlock/pseuds/kindsherlock
Summary: John get's hurt during a case, Sherlock freaks out. Softness and angst ensues.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 118





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic ever so if you see any mistakes that's the reason, and also English it's not my first language. Hope you enjoy it!

They were back home on Baker Street, going through the aftermaths of a case. They had done this a thousand times, but this time it was different. This time, John was hurt. And Sherlock was freaking out. 

They were in the kitchen, the table miraculously clear for once. John was sitting on it with his legs open, holding the hem of his shirt above his ribs, leaving space for Sherlock, who was standing, his torso bent, cleaning John's almost-stab wound with some cotton and alcohol. _Really_ \- John thought - _there is no need for him to be this tall_ , because if Sherlock stood up straight, they would be eye to eye.  
"John stay still" Sherlock said with a soft but deep tone; it got that way when he was like this, in the middle of something important, focused. John tried not to think about what that meant. Really, Sherlock was being dramatic; he hadn't actually gotten stabbed, the knife had just passed very close to him and-- "Ow" John squirmed - the alcohol burned. A lot. "Sherlock-'' he tried to move away. But the detective, without batting an eye, held John down, firmly putting his hand on the soldier's arm, the one that was holding the edge of the table. The man kept cleaning and John had stopped breathing, because Sherlock was, softly, slowly, moving his hand all the way down to John's, resting his own there, grounding him.  
"You know I could do this myself, I _am_ a doctor" John said, his voice a bit strangled. They were close, they were so close, and John was trying to think about something else, to not think about the nonexistent distance between their bodies. It was almost intimate. No, it _was_ intimate. The apartment was quiet, and so was the street outside. John could hear Sherlock's breathing and he was sure he could hear him too. And, God, Sherlock looked so pretty right now, his black curls so soft, his cheekbones highlighted by the tender light above them, his frown deep in concentration. _I'm fucked_ , he cursed himself.  
"I know you are but- this is my fault John so let me- let me take care of this, let me take care of you". John blinked, surprised, because this, Sherlock being so openly worried and guilty, was not something he saw often.  
And then- "You are staring".  
John chuckled and let his gaze go down. 

Then he really couldn’t help but squirm because Sherlock had started wrapping bandages around his ribs.  
"This is really not necessary".  
"I don't want it to get infected. Take off your shirt" he said like it was nothing. Like in John's mind it didn’t mean anything. But still, he said it softly, caring. John's heart was beating fast. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, hissing at the pain the movement caused.  
Sherlock finished, and John was fine, except he couldn't help but register every minuscule touch on his skin, the way Sherlock got closer when he had to circle his back with the bandages.  
"Thank you".  
"You shouldn't be thanking me, I caused this".  
"Sherlock--" John cupped his face with one hand. They were eye to eye now. The detective was worried, he could see it.  
"First of all, it's not that bad; that knife barely got me and second, do you think that I didn't know the risks of joining you when I did? This time, and all the others before? That I don't for all the future ones? It's alright. I promise. And look, I'm fine, you made me feel better. See? I'm better now, I'm better because of you" He was caressing Sherlock's cheek now, and the taller man tipped his head to the soft touch.  
He saw him relax. And then John remembered the situation they were in. He was still sitting with his legs open and with Sherlock in the middle, and now not only were they gazes locked, but Sherlock, at some point, had put his hands on his waist. Still grounding John, and now also himself. 

The closeness was too much. John's heart won't be able to take this. He started thinking about how to get down from the table when he saw it. He saw Sherlock, still warm and soft, looking at his lips. It was just a second, and then eye contact again. They were breathing the same air at this point. He should have stopped it by now, he knew that, but he couldn’t have because suddenly Sherlock was kissing him. He was kissing him and grabbing his face at the sides and _Sherlock is kissing me_. John was shocked, and it took him a second, but he breathed in and started kissing back, because this was a one in a lifetime opportunity this was new and terrifying. But his train of thoughts stopped when Sherlock deepened the kiss with his tongue and John couldn’t help but _moan_ at the act. The detective was now relaxed into the kiss and he was smiling. He lowered his hands enthusiastically to John's neck, then his shoulders, all the way down to his waist; but in doing so he touched John's wound accidentally and he hissed at the pain, putting an end to the kiss. Too soon, way too soon.  
"Shit sorry, are you alright?" Sherlock said breathless and worried again. But John laughed fondly "Yes, yes I am". He was smiling. It was alright, he was alright. They were looking at each other. There was so much in that look, years of friendship and fun but also pain and loss and love. There was so much love. 

John had had doubts about them, his feelings and Sherlock's feelings but now everything seemed crystal clear, untangled, making perfect sense. Sherlock. And John. Sherlock and John. Of course. _Of course_. It only took John to get almost-stabbed for them to figure it out.  
He had his hands back on Sherlock's face. They lost track of time after that. They kissed some more, and then some more but in John's bedroom. For that Sherlock had grabbed the soldier's thighs and put his legs crossing behind his back. John hadn't expected it, he didn't know Sherlock had that strength in him, so he yelped when he saw he was being carried to the bed. They giggled happily. And what happened there after that is a topic for another time.

**Author's Note:**

> I always get ideas for fics but I never write them. This was possible thanks to my best friend Ivettie, who was the first one to read it and was kind enough to help me revise it and hype me up about it. Love you girl!  
> Please if you like it or have any thoughts about it let me know!! 
> 
> I'm on Twitter and Tumblr as kindharryy <3


End file.
